A Queen from Zero
by Frog-kun
Summary: Set between episodes 3 and 12. Reinhard took Felt away after the battle with Elsa. Yet despite Reinhard's knightly demeanour, Felt is suspicious of him. What is he planning? Why did he abduct her? She resolves to escape from him and take charge of her own fate.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** Apparently, Reinhard never told Felt a damn thing about her possible ancestry, so I thought it would be fun to write a story where she pieces things together herself and takes action.

While this story will eventually line up with the events of the main series, I've decided to take my own route getting there. Hope you find the result interesting.

 **A Queen from Zero**

White walls and chandelier lights.

Those were the first things Felt saw when she woke up.

"Huh… where am I…?"

She tried to move, only to discover that her body was being weighed down by something thick and soft. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling at all. When Felt cast her eyes down to her body, she saw that she was covered in an enormous, creamy white blanket, the sort that could only exist in some rich snob's house.

"I'm glad you're finally awake," said a voice to her left.

"Huh…?" Felt said groggily as she turned her head towards the source of the voice.

The first thing she saw was red. Vivid red hair, the colour of blood.

 _Has someone been hurt?_ was Felt's first thought. Suddenly, her heart began to pound unbearably. Had something happened to Old Man Rom? Oh no. _Oh no…_

"How are you feeling?" said the voice, interrupting her panicked thoughts. "You suffered some injuries…"

The owner of the voice was sitting on a chair beside the bed, peering down at her with rather piercing blue eyes. His tone, however, was gentle.

Felt got the vague impression that she recognised him…

Mr. Redhead must have noticed the confusion on Felt's face, because he said, "My apologies, I have not introduced myself properly yet. My name is Reinhard. I am a member of the Royal Guard."

It was then that Felt finally started to remember what had happened the night before.

The insignia. The weird boy who came to the shop. The scary lady in black. The brutal battle in the darkness.

And finally, this man in white, who had appeared out of nowhere to save the day.

Relief began to flood into her chest.

"So you're Reinhard?" Felt sat up in the bed and peered at the guy closely.

She hadn't been able to get a proper look at him earlier because it had been all dark in the shop, but there was no mistaking the white uniform he was wearing. He was definitely a member of the Royal Guard.

"You saved me, huh…"

"I was just passing by," said Reinhard with an easy-going smile. For all his status, he seemed like a friendly enough guy.

Despite her lingering grogginess, Felt couldn't help but grin back at him.

"Still, you helped me out in a pinch, so I guess I owe you a big one. Thanks a bunch, Reinhard!"

Little did Felt know that her goodwill would not last very long.

* * *

Things were all right at first, mostly because the food was really, _really_ good. Not only were there servants at her every beck and call, the dining table was stacked with plates of mouth-watering dishes Felt had never tasted before. Always one to make the best of whatever life served her, Felt kept cramming plateful after plateful into her mouth. She'd never had a meal this good in her life, ever. A part of her wondered if she'd ever have a meal this good again. Rich people had it impossibly good.

As Felt gobbled down her sixth helping, she noticed Reinhard watching her across the table with a smile. He ate very properly, with a knife and fork and all that. Felt didn't bother with any of that stuff. It took too long to get the food into her mouth.

"What are you lookin' at?" she asked Reinhard once she had finished swallowing.

"The more I look at you," said Reinhard as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin, "the more I am certain that you are the one. It must have been fate that led me to encounter you."

"You're a weird guy," said Felt. "Didn't know you were into that palm-reading stuff."

"I know that it is deeply impolite of me to ask this, but it is very important. Do you have any memories of your parents? Of a life outside the slums?"

All of a sudden, Reinhard was looking at her very seriously. Felt blinked. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before. Her heart started pounding a little faster.

 _Right. This guy didn't bring me here for no reason …_

"You think I stole something from you? I already returned that insignia." Felt met his gaze straight on. "If I stole something from you, I'd remember it."

Felt never stole something without reason. She might be a thief, but she had her honour. She could tell just by looking at this Reinhard guy that he knew a little something about honour as well.

He met her gaze unswervingly, and before long his lips turned up into a smile.

"Rest assured. I am not accusing you of anything. If you are who I think you are, then it is my sworn duty to protect you with my life."

"You really are a weird guy," muttered Felt.

She didn't sense any danger or hostility from Reinhard. In fact, as weird and as out of the blue as his declaration was, she got the impression that he was being genuine when he said that he would protect her.

But even so…

Felt had lost her appetite.

"Well, thanks for the free lunch and everything," she said as she pushed her plate away. "If you're not here to arrest me, then I can go home now, right? I need to catch up with Old Man Rom."

Something in Reinhard's eyes flickered.

"I'm afraid I cannot let you do that," he said slowly.

Just as Felt suspected. Even a thief like her knew that there was no such thing as a free lunch. There was no way this guy would simply let her go free, not after he had gone to such lengths to bring her to this place.

And then, for the first time since Reinhard had introduced himself to her, the cold chill of fear touched her heart. For some reason that she could not figure out, this knight—her saviour—was keeping her prisoner.

* * *

Felt soon began to take stock of where she was.

Reinhard had taken her to a manor atop a hill overlooking the capital. It was situated inside the inside the district for the nobility. Felt had seen this manor before, although naturally she had never been inside it. If she broke out of this place, then it would be as easy as pie for her to get back to the slums.

The problem was that the manor itself was like a labyrinth. It was filled with long, wide corridors that led to absolutely nowhere. The walls were lined with paintings of stern-looking men and elegant ladies, although they were of no use to Felt at all. Since she couldn't tell any of the people in the portraits apart, she couldn't distinguish between one corridor and another. The only thing that stood out was the opulence that exuded from every nook and cranny.

Felt did not get the opportunity to find her bearings during her first day at the manor. After the meal, Reinhard insisted that she stay in bed to recover from her injuries. Felt did try to climb down the balcony as soon as he was out of earshot, but, well, that didn't end too great. As soon as she put her foot against the brick wall, her leg twinged in pain and she almost fell twenty metres onto a stone-paved footpath. She only survived because, well…

"I see you have some rather dangerous hobbies, Lady Felt."

Although Felt's feet were touching nothing but air, her arm was being held by a firm and comforting hand.

"How the heck did you get here?" Felt demanded.

"I was just passing by," said Reinhard with a smile.

 _Like heck he was!_ He must have been standing outside her door like a groupie.

Felt scowled, but only said, "Pull me up already!"

"Of course, my lady."

He pulled her back onto the balcony smoothly. When both of Felt's feet hit solid ground, she stumbled and almost fell to her knees. Reinhard kept her steady.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked in what he probably thought was a cheerful and helpful tone. "Shall I take you to bed?"

Felt's face instantly turned red.

"W-what?! No! I can take myself! And you stay out of my bed!"

"Hm? I don't quite understand what you are saying. Do you have a fever now too? Oh dear, you really must get some rest."

"Aaaaargh! Shut up! Are you always like this?!"

In the end, Felt did get into the bed, though, which was probably for the best when all was said and done. The fight against the scary lady had taken more out of her than she had expected. But still, Felt could not say that she enjoyed being stuck in bed with nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs.

Perhaps because he had noticed her restlessness, Reinhard offered to take her around the manor when she felt better. Felt only accepted because she thought that knowing the layout of the place would help her plot her escape better. A part of her had to wonder why he would let her walk around the manor, though. If he was intent upon keeping her prisoner, wouldn't he try to prevent her from moving freely? She couldn't understand that guy.

Maybe was trying to guilt trip her into staying by being so nice to her? The thought crossed her mind. This was the second time he had saved her life now. There was no way she could repay a debt like that, not even if she stuck with him forever. The thought depressed her deeply. She hated the idea of owing somebody; it ate away at the corner of her mind relentlessly.

She shook her head against the bed's velvety pillow and tried to think of something else. Her mind went to Old Man Rom. She hadn't seen him at all since that night. Was he even still kicking? He had been hurt pretty badly in that fight… Please… He had to be okay…

"Damn it…" she heard herself mutter aloud as she gazed up at the unfamiliar ceiling. It really was nothing like the old ramshackle shack she normally slept in.

Felt remembered how as a kid she would lie on her back and count the stars, wondering if the day would ever come when she could sleep with a warm and thick blanket like this. She had scavenged her entire life in the hope that a day like this would eventually come. She had always assumed that if it ever happened, she would be the one providing for Old Man Rom into his retirement. Wasn't that obvious, after all…?

* * *

"How are you feeling, Lady Felt?" Reinhard asked her in the morning.

His face was the first thing she saw when she woke up. He was sitting on a chair beside her bed. She wondered if he had been attending her bedside all night. Creep.

"I'm good," said Felt, flexing her arms to demonstrate. "Never been better!"

She had decided that she wouldn't show this guy how much he rattled her. It would only make her the loser.

"That's good to hear," said Reinhard with a gentle smile.

"So we're going for a walk around the manor today, huh? After so much time cooped up in bed, I wanna stretch my legs!"

"Of course," said Reinhard, benevolently.

Felt suddenly had a bad feeling about all of this.

"But first, there is something necessary to be done," Reinhard went on, confirming Felt's suspicions.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"I am talking about your clothes," said Reinhard. "A lady needs proper clothes to wear."

Felt stared at Reinhard.

Reinhard stared at Felt.

"What are you talking about?" Felt demanded for the second time.

"I have arranged to have you fitted in a dress," said Reinhard, as if nothing could be more obvious.

 _Smile, Felt._ If she got pissed off at him, she would lose.

"Oh, really? And when did I give you my permission to do that, Mr. Knight?"

"My apologies. I thought it was something that had to be done sooner or later. Or is it your plan to keep wearing the same clothes...?"

As soon as Reinhard uttered those words, Felt's face burned. Damn it to hell… He had a point. Felt was suddenly self-conscious about her torn and tattered clothes. Next to Reinhard, who was all dressed up in a dashing white outfit that didn't appear to have a speck of dust on it, Felt was utterly dirty.

"I can change my clothes," Felt insisted, puffing out her cheeks. "That means you have to get lost."

"Of course," said Reinhard with a bow. "I have arranged for a female aide to assist you. I hope you find her satisfactory."

As he spoke, the bedroom door opened and a woman dressed in a maid outfit walked in. She was a middle-aged lady whose greying hair was tied into a tight bun. Despite her age, she stood tall and straight. As she walked inside, she pushed up a pair of horn-rimmed glasses in a no-nonsense manner.

"My name is Phyllis. I will be attending to you, Lady Felt."

For some reason, she gave Felt a withering glare as she spoke. Felt wondered if she had done something to the lady to get her underwear in a twist. Well, whatever.

"Now then, I will leave you to your business." Reinhard bowed once again before making his way out the door. He seemed to pay no heed whatsoever to the maid's glowering face or to Felt's equally unimpressed demeanour.

The sound of the door creaking shut filled the room, punctuating the awkward silence that had suddenly fallen.

Once Reinhard had gone, Felt snuck a peek at the maid once again. Phyllis was wearing an expression that could curdle milk. Their eyes met.

"Look at you!" Phyllis said irritably. "Your posture is a disgrace, and the less said about your hair and clothes the better. I don't know how Master Reinhard expects to make you presentable in time. He really did just pluck you off the street, didn't he?"

She said all of this in one breath.

"Er, uh, what?" said Felt.

"Come this way," sniffed Phyllis as she grabbed Felt's arm.

"Oi, geroff me!"

"Have you no manners at all, you impetuous child?!"

"Hey, you just grabbed me without reason. Aren't you the rude one?"

"Quiet. Don't talk back to your elders!"

Felt had suspected it before, but she was absolutely certain of it now. "Have you got something against me? I haven't done anything to you, so what's the big idea?"

"Oh, nothing," said the maid in the kind of tone that suggested that this was a complete lie. "I merely fear the future of this kingdom."

Although Felt waited for her to elaborate, Phyllis didn't say anything more than that.

There was a stilted pause.

"In any case," Phyllis said finally, "it is time to do the measurements. Strip."

"Hey, you can't just boss me ar—"

"You ought to be grateful that you're here. If Master Reinhard hadn't saved you, you would still be out on the streets, rolling around in your own filth. Is that how you really want to live?"

Phyllis's words cut into Felt like a dagger.

Felt opened her mouth, about to retort, and then closed it, dropping her eyes.

Wasn't she the one who had declared that she wasn't like any of those other losers in the slums? That she would become something better one day? She hated those bozos who lay around in the streets without taking any control of their own lives. They were all so defeated, so utterly resigned to their fate. Felt had sworn to herself that she would never be like them.

And now… finally…

"Live strong, huh?" she muttered to herself, so quietly that Phyllis didn't even hear it.

"Well?" said the maid imperiously.

Felt shook her head. It wasn't as if someone like _her_ could understand where those words came from anyway.

Slowly, as if her limbs were weighed down by bricks, she began to take off her clothes.

She shivered as her bare flesh touched the air. All the hairs on her skin stood on end. Felt had never been naked in front of a stranger before, so perhaps that was why she felt sick in the stomach. Vaguely, she wondered if a prostitute ever felt like this when she stripped down to nothing. Felt had done everything she could to avoid having to make that choice. She fought, she stole…

Oblivious to Felt's thoughts, Phyllis said nothing and simply began tying a string around Felt's chest. The movement of her hands was brisk and no-nonsense, as if she had done this a million times before. As if tying a string around Felt's naked chest was a completely mundane thing to do.

Maybe it _was_ mundane.

But even so, Felt's skin began to crawl.

"This won't take long," Phyllis said blandly as Felt squirmed where she stood. "Stay still."

"Don't touch me!"

Felt blinked as soon as the words issued from her mouth. Her voice came out more vehemently than she had intended.

Meanwhile, Phyllis flinched and dropped the string in surprise. As she picked up the string from the floor, she scowled heavily. "I said stay still!"

When Phyllis put her hand on Felt's arm again, Felt's body snapped into action on its own accord, launching a kick that connected squarely with the maid's midriff. The impact left Phyllis reeling. She stumbled back a few steps before stopping and looking back up at Felt, all the while breathing heavily.

If her expression before had been sour, it was downright acidic now.

"Why, you…!"

The maid took a step closer, the string dangling from her tight grasp. In her mind's eye, Felt could see herself being tied down by the string, unable to move an inch from where she stood. She imagined the string closing around her neck, until she was no longer able to breathe.

Felt jumped back, instinctively covering her chest with her arms.

"Stay away! Don't come any closer!" Her voice sounded hoarse and desperate to her own ears. " _Stop!"_

The door suddenly swung open.

"Lady Felt! Are you all ri—" An awkward pause. "M-my deepest apologies." Reinhard scrunched his eyes shut.

 _Huh? What's up with him?_ Felt thought vaguely. Her body was still trembling violently, and for a moment she found it hard to think, or even to breathe.

And then, perhaps five seconds too late, she realised that she was still naked from waist up.

"G-get lost!"

She chucked a vase in Reinhard's general direction. Even though his eyes were still shut, Reinhard caught the vase with one hand and neatly placed it on the nearby shelf.

"This vase is very valuable. Please don't try to break it," he insisted calmly.

Felt chucked another vase at him.

Reinhard caught that one with perfect precision too. How was he capable of doing this with his eyes closed? His battle senses were impeccable.

Come to think of it, if he was that much of a superhuman, he could probably see her naked body with his eyes closed too…

"Aaaaaaaargh!" Felt held her head in her hands and moaned.

* * *

Needless to say, Felt was not in a terribly good mood after that.

"I am deeply and utterly ashamed of myself," said Reinhard once Felt was dressed in a loose-fitting gown and Phyllis was out of the room. "No apology can express my remorse."

In the end, Felt's chest never got measured. Once it became clear to Reinhard that Felt did not want anyone—not even another woman—to measure her, he became pensive. It was obvious that he did not know how to broach the subject.

Felt watched him as he continued apologising to her profusely over and over again. Although her heartbeat had slowed down, her body was still on edge, as if ready to spring into flight at any moment. Every nerve in her body was on high alert.

But for some reason, her anger had already faded.

Maybe it was because Felt had never really been the type to hold a grudge for long. Whenever she got mad, she would throw a few punches around, and that would be that. She didn't think about it too hard. Even she had trouble grasping why she had reacted so violently to Phyllis measuring her. It was like her body had gone on autopilot. The more time passed, the less she understood it.

One particular thought, however, was clear to her.

"Why won't you let me go home, Reinhard?" She cut through Reinhard's stream of apologies, gazing at the knight intently.

Reinhard looked up at her from where he was kneeling at her feet. A strained look had come over his face.

It was the first time since she had met him that his perfect, knightly demeanour had so much as even flickered.

"I'm sorry," said Reinhard for the umpteenth time, "but that is one thing… that I cannot do…"

His eyes scrunched shut and his eyebrows creased into a frown.

Felt couldn't tell whether he wanted to let her go or not. She considered herself pretty good at reading people, especially potential customers, but this time she just had no clue.

"Is something tying you down, Reinhard?" Felt couldn't keep the curiosity out of her own voice.

"It is my duty…" Reinhard did not finish the sentence. He just continued to frown uncomfortably.

"Whatever," said Felt with a shrug. "Screw your duty. Just do your own damn thing and let me do mine."

As he listened to those words, Reinhard's frown eased. Then a wry smile came over his face.

"That is not possible, Lady Felt," he said, chuckling.

"Huh? Why not?"

"For one thing, I want to serve you. That is my choice. And for another…" His face clouded over once more. "If I let you go, something more terrible will happen."

"What are you talking about? Sometimes you don't make any sense, Reinhard."

"I apologise." Reinhard lowered his head once again. "I promise that all will be clear in due time."

"Huh."

Silence fell between them. Once again, they had reached an impasse.

And yet something—Felt was unsure what—had changed. Maybe it was something in the air.

"Tell you what," Felt spoke up at length. "This morning, I owed you two big favours. But since you pissed me off a lot today, I only owe you one big favour now. So you don't have to keep apologising to me."

Reinhard looked up at her and blinked in surprise.

"A favour?" he repeated, puzzled.

"You saved my life, remember?" Felt put her hands on her hips and grinned. "I don't forget what I owe people."

"It is my life's duty to serve you to the utmost of my ability. My lady, you owe me no debts."

"I do," Felt answered him firmly. "I do owe you something. One day I'll repay you in full."

They met each other's eyes straight on. Neither she nor Reinhard were the type to look away once they had set their eyes on something.

"Then…"

"But I won't be tied down by you. Not by you, not by anyone. Do you hear me, Reinhard?"

Reinhard blinked a few more times. It was almost cute to see him so momentarily baffled. But soon enough, his mouth settled into his characteristic smile—polite yet undeniably cheerful.

"I hear you loud and clear, Lady Felt."

* * *

And thus, Felt continued to plot her escape from Reinhard's clutches.

The balcony, predictably enough, was a no-go. Ever since the time she almost fell off the balcony, guards stood around the path outside. It would be impossible for her to climb down the wall unnoticed, even with her prodigious skill for sneaking around.

Fortunately for Felt, there were times when Reinhard left her alone during the day, probably because he had his Royal Guard duties to attend to. Unfortunately for her, however, she was contently being attended by servants, to the extent that she was never allowed a moment of peace. She was never allowed outside her room without a servant to guide her. They tried to make out that they were being helpful, but she could sense that all the servants were watching her every move carefully. It really pissed her off.

Her access within the manor itself was also heavily restricted. The servants wouldn't let her go inside half the rooms. And the ones they did let her go into were just full of junk anyway. Some rooms only contained rows of mahogany bookshelves, crammed to the brim with thick tomes that looked impossible to extract, while others were dedicated to storing fancy-looking swords and suits of armour. All these rooms were kept impeccably clean, and the equipment was polished with such care that it sparkled in the light. But even then, Felt couldn't help but get the impression that the items weren't there for anyone to actually use.

It only took a few days for her to start feeling stifled by the manor. She never did find any escape routes, no matter how thoroughly she combed what she was allowed to see of the manor. But that wasn't the only reason why the manor felt oppressive. Whenever she walked down the hallways, she thought the people in the portraits followed her with their cold and unfriendly eyes. It was as if those absent nobles were looking down upon her with patrician disdain.

At the same time, Felt couldn't help but let her eyes linger on the paintings as she wandered past. She knew none of the faces or names, but it was like a part of her knew these people from somewhere. Somehow. Perhaps it was because of the way they were drawn, not as caricatures, but like real people who must have lived and breathed the way she did now. This was a house that was made for the dead rather than for the living.

"Who are these people?" she asked the servant following her, a young demi-human girl who seemed to have a habit of tripping over herself constantly.

"These are all members of the Astrea family, past and present," responded the servant with a note of pride in her voice. "If you look, you can see Sir Reinhard in that one."

Felt looked at where the servant was pointing.

The red hair caught her notice first, predictably. It showed a portrait of a solemn-faced boy, probably around seven or eight or so, sitting on a chair and holding up a short sword that still seemed much too big for him. Even at that young age, he was wielding a blade.

"Isn't Sir Reinhard so cool?" Felt heard the servant gush behind her. "He worked so hard since the time he was young, and plus he's the Sword Saint. That's amazing, isn't it?"

"I guess so," said Felt.

She tried to sound nonchalant, but in truth, she _was_ impressed. Not that she would ever say so to _him._ She could hardly remember what she had been doing at that age. She had always lived on the streets, but that also meant she had always been outside running with the other kids. She couldn't begin to imagine what it would have been like to sit around all day modelling for a portrait. Nor could she imagine what it was like to play with swords instead of sticks at that age. Reinhard had his whole life worked out for him when he was little. No wonder he seemed so sure of himself all the time.

She felt sorry for him, in a way.

At length, she turned her gaze away and let it drift over some of the other portraits. They had to be members of Reinhard's family, although of course she recognised none of them by face or name. It occurred to her that she wasn't just fighting to escape Reinhard—every single one of these people was an enemy of hers. Even the little boy with a sword too big for him to wield.

"Shall we get going now?" asked the servant behind her, a little hesitantly.

"Not yet," said Felt through gritted teeth.

There had to be a clue in here somewhere. If she came to understand Reinhard, then perhaps she would learn why he had abducted her. What was this duty rubbish he kept talking about? What exactly _was_ his duty, anyway?

But unfortunately she couldn't find any recent paintings of Reinhard. The one of him as a boy had to be the most recent. As Felt walked further down the hallway, the paintings started looking distinctly worn around the edges, as if they might have existed for hundreds of years before Felt had stumbled across them.

"Damn," she muttered to herself.

It seemed that there were no clues here after all. Not that Felt should have expected anything useful to begin with, she reminded herself. What use was a painting anyway, other than to sell it? No matter how fancy and expensive everything in this manor was, she knew that she couldn't sell anything if she couldn't escape from this place to begin with.

As that thought occurred to her, she realised that she had reached the end of the hallway. It was a complete dead end. Even so, Felt decided that she would not give up her search. Not ever.

What exactly she was searching for she had no inkling of herself. But somehow she knew that it was desperately important.

It was at that moment her eyes fell on what was perhaps the oldest-looking painting in the entire manor, tucked away in a tiny corner at the very end of the hallway.

A girl. Blonde hair. Crimson red eyes.

Felt came to a complete stop as soon as her eyes fell upon it. She stood frozen to the spot, unable to take her eyes away.

There was no way that she could possibly understand what she saw, and yet from the moment she laid eyes upon it she was somehow conscious that her very existence was being swallowed by something far larger than herself. It was as if she were being pulled through a looking glass and into another world altogether.

All this time, was this what Reinhard had been searching for?

"Who… who is _that_?"

 **end part one of three**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** The 8th of August is apparently Felt's birthday. It should still be the 8th in some countries at the time of this posting, so happy birthday, Felt!

* * *

That evening, Felt waited for Reinhard to come back to her. The knight always came by to check up on her and bid her goodnight like the perfect gentleman he was.

This time, he came to her bearing gifts—a pair of slippers, to be precise.

"What is this?" Felt asked suspiciously.

"I picked them out for you," Reinhard explained smilingly. He knelt at her feet and gingerly held up the slippers. "If I may?"

Instead of answering his question directly, Felt took the slippers from his hands. Even she had to admit that these slippers looked exquisitely beautiful, almost ethereal in their translucent quality. On top of being a master swordsman, was Reinhard blessed with a superior fashion sense? This guy couldn't be human, could he?

Curious in spite of herself, Felt tried on the slippers. She blinked in surprise; the slippers fit perfectly, as if they were an extension of her feet.

"Is it to your liking?" asked Reinhard. "I believe they suit you very well."

Felt wondered what Old Man Rom would say if he saw her now. He'd probably crack up with laughter. _"That don't suit you, Felt. That don't suit you at all."_

And yet the slippers fit snugly. That was entirely because Reinhard had got them tailored to her foot size, after all.

As this thought went through Felt's mind, she spoke up. "What do you mean—they suit me?" And then she said, "Do I really look like her that much?"

The memory of that painting in the hallway weighed heavily upon her mind as she spoke.

Even during the hours she had waited for Reinhard, she had not been able to figure out just what that painting was for or what it had to do with her, but somehow she knew that it was connected to everything.

"Ah, so you saw that," Reinhard uttered softly, looking away slightly.

"It's stupid!" Felt declared loudly, folding her arms. "Hey, I think you've got a case of mistaken identity on your hands. You kidnapped me for a dumb reason."

No matter how much she looked like that girl in the painting, Felt knew that they were nothing alike. The painting was from another world altogether. Felt knew this for certain.

"I mean, what proof do you have about anything?" she went on, hitting her stride. "For a Sword Saint, you're not too bright, are you?"

Reinhard said nothing.

If the look on his face was anything to go by, he didn't seem too offended, though. Did nothing ruffle his feathers?

He was smiling politely at her as usual, but Felt got the impression that he was measuring her with his gaze. His eyes had narrowed ever so slightly.

"Well?" Felt demanded finally.

Finally, Reinhard opened his mouth.

"It is true that there is no conclusive proof, and yet… when I saw you that night…"

He reached into his belt and pulled out something small and black. When he placed it in Felt's tiny palm, it began to glow.

"See? It reacts," Reinhard murmured, as if to confirm something to himself.

For that brief moment, at least, the knight appeared to have forgotten his place. His hand lingered over hers, and his grip on her wrist was firm. She would not have been able to pull her hand away from his even if she tried with all her might. Perhaps Reinhard had never truly cared about courtly manners to begin with.

But at that moment, Felt didn't care either. As she gazed down at the glowing insignia in her hand, something in her heart began to pound.

At a glance, she recognised that insignia—it was identical to the one she had stolen. The sight of it raised far more questions than it answered. Felt shivered involuntarily. What was this disorienting feeling that had come over her, as if her entire body had been thrown off balance? Was it fear? No, that wasn't quite it… but then, what was it?

What did it all _mean_?

Before Felt could even begin to grasp at an answer, Reinhard took the insignia away.

As soon as the insignia vanished from view, Felt's head jerked up, responding to Reinhard's movement. All she could do was stare at his face, into his unreadable eyes.

"You are the one," said the knight, slowly yet firmly. "I've spent my whole life searching for you."

His words explained nothing.

And yet at that moment, Felt understood one thing very clearly.

In a sense, Reinhard was just as much of a prisoner as she was.

* * *

In that case, the way for Felt to free herself was obvious.

All she needed to do was remove the weight of obligation from Reinhard's shoulders. If she released him from his duty, then he would have no reason to keep her tied down.

It didn't matter to Felt what person Reinhard thought she was, or what relationship they had. He was Reinhard and she was Felt. The truth was as simple as that. If he acknowledged that same truth, then he would no longer be her knight and she would no longer be his lady.

In other words, she had to sever the link binding them together.

Reset everything.

And start from zero.

* * *

Realising now what had to be done, Felt stopped arguing with Reinhard. Instead, she closed her eyes and began to breathe in and out slowly, focusing her concentration.

Reinhard was strong. There was no way she could defeat him if she attacked him head on. There was also no way that she could take him by surprise, given what his reflexes were like. She would not be able to get close to him without him noticing, even if his eyes were closed. _That_ incident (Felt's cheeks burned at the mere recollection) had proved that much.

As Felt considered these things, her heart began to pound once more. She had never experienced a challenge on this level before. The odds were stacked against her, but even so, Felt knew that she could win. If there was one thing Felt prided herself on, it was her resourcefulness. She hadn't grown up on the streets for nothing.

"Is something the matter, Lady Felt?" she heard Reinhard ask her.

Felt opened her eyes.

Reinhard was peering at her with eyes full of concern. Even if he was a superhuman, he probably had no idea what kind of thoughts were running through her head.

Felt smiled at him.

"Say, I've got a question, Reinhard."

"Yes, what is it?"

"You'd do anything for me? Anything besides set me free, I mean."

"Of course," said Reinhard. "My life is yours to command."

As he spoke, he bowed deeply, ever the dutiful knight.

 _That's good then,_ thought Felt as she gazed down at his red hair. At least one factor was on her side. Reinhard probably didn't trust her, but he had sworn to serve her. If she played her cards right, she could get him to lower his guard around her. That way, she could create an opening without revealing her own intentions.

"Take me out into the gardens then," she said, as imperiously as she could manage. "I'm tired of being cooped up in here."

"My lady, isn't the hour quite late already? Perhaps it is best to retire for the night."

"Didn't you say you'd do anything I commanded? Or are you a liar, Reinhard?"

"Of course not," the knight responded evenly.

And with that, he walked over to the door and opened it smoothly. He didn't stop there; he held the door open for Felt as she walked past.

"Heh," said Felt. "So you _are_ good for some things."

"Lady Felt, it would be an honour if you relied on me as your knight. At the very least, I hope that you can trust me." There was a tinge of self-deprecation in the knight's smile, as if he could not bring himself to believe his own words. He was obviously aware that if he were in Felt's position, he wouldn't trust a guy like himself at all.

"Yeah," said Felt. "I know."

* * *

Walking in the gardens with Reinhard, it felt as if the two of them were the only people left in the world.

A cool breeze tickled Felt's skin. The moon peaked out from behind the clouds, illuminating the lush greenery and colourful flowers around her. The grass must have been watered fairly recently, because it felt soft and cushiony against her feet.

It felt as if she was walking inside a scene from a storybook.

In reality, this was all the work of trained gardeners, who must have slaved day and night in order to produce this picture of ephemeral beauty.

"Are you enjoying your walk, Lady Felt?" asked Reinhard behind her.

For a moment, Felt did not answer. She merely turned her head and looked back soundlessly at Reinhard. He appeared to be distracted himself. He stood still, gazing up at the wan moon. His eyebrows were knitted into a frown.

"What are _you_ so preoccupied about?" Felt asked him, nonplussed.

Reinhard turned to look at her and smiled. It was such a typical Reinhard expression that Felt was starting to memorise with precise detail that "ultra refreshing" smile of his. If she had even slightest amount of artistic ability, she could have sketched it without even looking at him.

"The moon is lovely tonight, isn't it?"

"Sheesh, you're boring. I didn't think you could find a more generic conversation starter. But whatever."

Felt eventually came to a stop and looked at her surroundings. She had reached the edge of the garden. The fence blocked the path ahead of her. She could probably scale it in a few seconds, but that was still too slow to slip away from Reinhard without him noticing.

As Felt sighed, a cold wind blew around her, causing the nearby bushes to rustle. Other than that, there was no sound out here at all.

"…Hey, Reinhard. Do you know why I called you here?"

Instead of answering her question, Reinhard said, "It will be midnight soon."

He was gazing at the clock tower about a hundred metres away. It was situated just outside the boundaries of the van Astrea house, right in the very hub of the district for the nobility. Every night, Felt would hear the clock strike midnight from her bed, causing her to wake. Maybe the people who lived in this district were used to that sound, but she certainly wasn't. She would never hear the sound of that clock in the slums.

"Are you sure you want to be outside?" Reinhard asked her, interrupting her thoughts. "It will be much warmer inside."

"I've slept outside my whole life. I never want to sleep like that again."

"So then why…?"

"Even if I explain it to you, you wouldn't understand. After all, you were born with everything. Riches, a family name… even your divine protections were given to you at birth. You received all that just for existing."

Reinhard said nothing.

"I think I've more or less figured out why you abducted me. You think I'm a somebody like you. That's why you won't let me go back to the slums."

"Lady Felt, I…"

"But it's all so unbelievable, isn't it?" Felt interrupted him.

Perhaps it was because of the quiet, tranquil atmosphere of this garden. Felt found herself speaking with a soft and gentle tone, utterly unlike herself. She couldn't help but get caught in the mood in spite of herself.

"You brought me here. You gave me these clothes and slippers. But you can't change who I am on the inside."

 _If Master Reinhard hadn't saved you, you would still be out on the streets, rolling around in your own filth. Is that how you really want to live?_

As she spoke, Felt vividly recalled the sound of Phyllis's voice, as if the maid were speaking directly into her ear.

"I'll never be accepted among those nobles," Felt went on. "They're all just shallow blowhards, you know."

"The dragon has accepted you, Lady Felt. When the nobles understand that, they will accept you too."

"So you've banked everything on that insignia. You don't know the girl you're looking for, but if she fits the exact measurement you have in mind, then she has to be the one. Is that how it is?"

"That's the long and short of it," Reinhard answered.

"I see," said Felt.

It was still completely unbelievable.

Felt thought of all those years she had spent in the slums as nothing but human vermin. The only thing that had set her apart from the others was her dreams. She was destined to become someone greater. That was what she had told Old Man Rom every day, from the time she was a little girl.

But now, after her dream had come true through no effort of her own, why did she feel so defeated?

All she could do was shake her head.

"It's a lie," she muttered. "It's all a lie."

"Lady Felt…?"

"Old Man Rom used to tell me that if I worked hard, I could break free from the slums. That's what I believed. That's why I did everything I could. But in the end, it's blood that decides everything. Or fate, or divine blessings, or whatever else you call it."

As she spoke, Felt realised that her hands had clenched into fists.

"I hate it. I hate that system! Why does it have to be that way? There's nothing fair about it! That's why I reject it!"

She stamped her foot against the ground, crushing the dewy grass with her slipper. Even the feel of the slipper against her feet irritated her, for she could not move around easily in it. She flung off the slippers with a single jerky kick, so that her bare feet touched the earth once more.

At the same moment, clouds covered the moon, cloaking the garden in shadow. Felt could not see Reinhard's face, but she could tell that he was no longer smiling. Even in the gloom, his blue eyes gleamed piercingly, as if fighting against the darkness.

"What are you planning to do?" he asked her in a low voice.

"The only thing that I can do."

Right then and there, Felt pulled up her nightgown, revealing her pale white thighs. Reinhard jerked backwards, evidently startled.

Wrapped around Felt's right thigh was a leather strap with a knife attached.

With one smooth motion, Felt unsheathed the knife, tossed it in the air and caught it in her hand.

"I borrowed this from your house for a bit. Hope you don't mind."

"Lady Felt, please don't do anything you will regret."

Reinhard spoke calmly, but there was something inexplicably sad in his eyes. It was impossible to describe. The sight of it just pissed Felt off even more. Why was he feeling _sorry_ for her at a time like this?

"This is the only thing I can do, damn it! Even if it's hopeless, I have to live strong!"

And with that, she dashed at Reinhard, brandishing the knife.

Things happened very quickly after that. The next thing Felt knew, her knife-wielding arm was twisted behind her back. Reinhand's hand was clamped on her wrist, preventing her from budging an inch.

"Was this really the only thing you could think to do?" Reinhard asked behind her. His voice sounded somewhat pained, almost as if her knife really had inflicted a wound on him.

It took Felt a moment to realise that Reinhard spoke like someone who had been betrayed.

It was just for a moment, but Felt sensed something twinge in her chest. As if a voice in her head was telling her that she _had_ done something needlessly cruel.

 _Is this the way to repay someone who saved your life?_

The thought very almost caused her to hesitate.

Instead, Felt opened her mouth and said, "Let go of me, Reinhard."

Even though she was in a compromised position, Felt kept her voice firm and her eyes fixed straight ahead. She stood very still and did not try to struggle against Reinhard's grip.

The next moment, she felt the weight of her knife leave her right hand.

"I will be taking this," she heard Reinhard say behind her.

After he finished speaking, he let go of her arm.

Felt instantly swung around to face the man who had defeated her so soundly.

In the darkness of the night, Reinhard's pure white clothing stood out like a sore thumb. He looked far more like royalty than Felt ever would. As the clouds shifted once again, allowing the moonlight to shine through, Felt caught sight of his face as well.

"You don't have to live like this, Lady Felt," Reinhard said, attempting a smile.

Even after she had attacked him, he reached his hand out towards hers. There was not a hint of resentment on his face. Felt could not understand the look on Reinhard's face at all, but it was strangely, hauntingly beautiful, like something out of a painting or a tragic play. There was a kind of noble sadness in his demeanour, as if he wore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

For a moment, Felt could only watch him helplessly, rooted to the spot. Dimly, she wondered if she was experiencing the effect of one of his many divine protections. In that case, perhaps it really _was_ impossible to fight against him…

His fingers were about to touch her left hand when a sudden noise cut through the air.

 _Dong… dong…!_

The sound was coming from the clock tower. In this quiet garden, the chime sounded even louder than it normally did.

And just like that, the spell broke.

"It's midnight…" Felt muttered, and then shivered, because only now did she feel the cold touch of the wind against her bare skin.

 _Dong… dong…!_

"Please, come with me, Lady Felt. There's no need for you to fight anymore. You cannot win against me." He spoke as if he were stating a simple fact, without a hint of arrogance in his tone.

 _Dong… dong…!_

As the clock tolled, Felt faced Reinhard once again. The knight's gloved hand was still reaching out for hers. Instead of letting him touch her, Felt skipped back several steps. She felt the garden wall brush against her back, preventing her from backing away any further. As far as Reinhard was concerned, there was nowhere else for Felt to run.

Slowly yet surely, Felt's mouth spread into an impish grin.

"You're wrong. You're the one who's been defeated."

"What…?"

 _Dong… dong…!_

As Reinhard blinked in surprise, Felt opened up her clenched left hand.

Lying there in her sweaty palm was a glowing black insignia.

"Impossible…!" Reinhard gasped.

"Don't you underestimate a master thief. It was never my intent to fight you head on in the first place! That was just a distraction!"

 _Dong… dong…!_

The shock only immobilised Reinhard for the barest of moments. As the sound of the clock echoed around them, he lunged towards Felt, reaching out for the insignia in her hand.

After many years in the slums, Felt's reflexes were just as sharp as his. Before Reinhard could touch her, she hurled the insignia towards a nearby bush.

"Lady Felt, no!"

As Reinhard let out an anguished cry, his eyes momentarily left Felt's body in order to watch the trajectory of the insignia.

This was all within the range of Felt's expectations. To Reinhard, the symbol mattered more than Felt herself did.

Ordinarily, she would have relished the look of utter shock and dismay on his face. His calm and knightly attitude was completely shattered. But there was no time at all to waste on him. The instant Reinhard was distracted, Felt scrambled up the wall. ( _Dong...!_ The clock rang out.) It was a good thing she wasn't wearing those slippers anymore; there were barely any footholds on the polished brick wall, and it was only long experience that propelled her to the top in the blink of an eye.

As soon as her feet touch the summit, the clock rang out for the last time that hour.

 _Dong…!_

"Goodbye, Reinhard," Felt muttered to herself. Even if Reinhard could not hear her, it was the least she could have said after everything that had happened between them. "I swear that I'll pay you back properly one day…!"

And with that fervent vow traced into her heart, she sprang off the wall and began her flight to freedom.

* * *

For at least an hour afterwards, Felt looked over her shoulder constantly, fearful that Reinhard would catch up to her unawares. But she felt more secure once she was outside of the relatively secluded district for the nobility. Even at this hour, the main streets were bustling with night vendors and buskers, so it was easy to slip into the crowd. In fact, it seemed that more travellers than usual were flowing into the capital these days. Compared to the obvious out-of-towners and non-humans, a short girl in a white nightgown was a nondescript sight. Nobody looked at her twice when she ventured out onto the main street.

It was only when she had slipped into a dank and desolate side alley, however, that Felt finally breathed a sigh of relief. From here, it was only a short walk to the slums. More importantly, she knew all the nooks and crannies in this part of town like the back of her hand. If someone chased after her here, she would easily be able to slip away into the shadows unseen. This ability had helped her out in a pinch many times in the past. Not even Reinhard would be capable of squeezing into Felt's numerous hiding places. As long as Felt was avoiding a direct confrontation, she was close to invincible on her home ground.

Nevertheless, Felt did not allow her pace to slow down. Even if she had wanted to stop for a rest, she would not have been able to. An insatiable restlessness forced her legs into motion. Throughout it all, only one thought pulsed through her mind: _Old Man Rom… Old Man Rom…_

His place wasn't far away from here. She would find him quickly and make sure he was okay. And after that… who knows? Well, first, she had one hell of a story to tell him.

Despite her eagerness, it took a bit longer than usual to get to Old Man Rom's place because she hid in the shadows whenever someone (usually a drunkard) walked past. Even though nobody in this part of town could possibly be connected to Reinhard van Astrea, she didn't want to be seen by any of them. She was well known in these parts, after all. Reinhard could probably track her down by asking people in the slums if they had seen her. She wouldn't put it past him; he seemed like the kind of person who would go about things thoroughly.

It was past 2 o'clock when she arrived at the district where the loot house was located. Not a soul was walking about at this hour. Some people were sleeping out in the open, covered only in rough felt blankets, but nobody stirred when Felt crept past. Briskly yet carefully, she made her way across the bridge she had traversed a million times before.

Nothing about her surroundings looked any different from usual. Depending on the weather, some people built makeshift houses in different spots or slept in a different place from day to day, but the shape of the slums always looked the same. Nothing ever improved.

Honestly, Felt would have been more surprised if anything _had_ changed. After all, she had only been gone for about a week. During that time, she might have visited another world, but in the end, life went on in much the same way outside. Already, it was starting to feel as if that week with Reinhard had been nothing but an incredibly detailed fantasy.

These thoughts preoccupied her mind to such an extent that, for a few seconds, she didn't even recognise the loot house when she caught sight of it.

In all fairness, however, it was understandable that she would not recognise the loot house at first. It had been rendered unrecognisable.

"What… what is this…?" Felt could not stop herself from gasping in shock.

The roof of the building had been completely torn off. All the furniture was smashed and broken. The loot house had always been a bit of a dump, but this looked like the sight of a tragedy.

For a moment, Felt stared at the devastation in silence, conscious of a horrible churning in her stomach. Then finally, belatedly, she remembered that the loot house had been like this the last time she had been there. That fateful night, when that woman went on her rampage, Reinhard had stepped in to save the day… and that was when he had caused this destruction.

 _Thud._

Felt dimly heard herself fall to the ground. After all that non-stop running, the strength seemed to have finally left her legs. She lacked the energy to even pick herself up off the ground. Whether it was because of physical or mental exhaustion, she didn't know. Probably both.

Even through her exhaustion, she was vaguely aware of one thing. She had been so fixated on escaping from Reinhard that she had refused to consider the glaring, obvious reality that she had passed the point of no return, that nothing in her life would ever be the same anymore.

"Damn it… damn it to hell…"

She had run away from the man who had saved her life, and all for what? A home that she could never go back to? There was no way that she could live in the slums after all of this. She had never wanted to live here in the first place, damn it.

But now, it was just plainly impossible.

"Old Man Rom…?"

She heard her own voice echo around the ruins, barely audible even to her own ears. When it came down to it, did she really sound like such a helpless little girl…? No, no, no, she didn't want to think about it. With effort, she craned her neck, looking around for the man who had found her and raised her for as long as she could remember.

There was no response, obviously.

Felt knew that if Old Man Rom were alive, he would be sleeping anywhere but here, but even so, she kept looking for him anyway. The old man had always guided her whenever she was lost. And he was a tough old coot too. Surely he was still alive. Surely she would find him. Surely things would go back to normal after all of this.

Surely… surely…

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

An unfamiliar man's voice spoke behind Felt. The voice sounded thin and reedy, nothing like Reinhard's calm and soothing tones.

As she heard footsteps draw close behind her, Felt's stomach sunk with dread. Slowly, she turned her head around to face the newcomer.

For a moment, she didn't even see him, even though she was staring directly at him. The ruins of the loot house were almost completely obscured in darkness, and the man was wearing a hooded black robe. Even when she noticed the outline of his figure, she was unable to see his face. She could not even guess how old he was.

All she knew for certain was that he was definitely not somebody who lived in the slums.

Felt's self-preservation skills instantly kicked into gear at the sight of him. She stumbled to her feet and started fumbling around the ruins for something—anything—to use as a makeshift weapon.

"Who… who the hell are you?" she demanded shakily.

The man did not answer her question.

"Blonde hair, red eyes… So the rumours were true. There was a survivor after all." He appeared to be speaking to himself. He could obviously see her, but it was as if she was nothing more than a curious oddity to him.

"Damn it… what do you want with me?!"

Once again, the man did not answer her question.

"So… the Sword Saint is not around. What a foolish thing you've done, escaping from his protection. Although I don't suppose you'll live long to regret it."

As the man was speaking, Felt's hands fell on a broken table leg. She picked it with both hands, pointing the jagged end forward.

"If it's a fight you want, come and get it!"

Before, when she had been facing off against Reinhard, she had been trapped but not cornered. But now, there was absolutely nowhere else to run. The man was blocking the entrance, and Felt had run out of options a while ago anyway.

"So you're a feisty one, huh? Very well then."

As the man stepped forward, he reached into his robes and pulled out a gleaming rapier. Felt could tell just by looking that the rapier was sharp enough to impale her body cleanly. With one hit, everything would be over.

All her dreams, all her ambitions… Everything.

"It's time to finish the job properly," said the man with a short, dry laugh.

Felt scowled at those words. She didn't know who this guy was or why he wanted to kill her, but she hadn't survived for this long for it all to end here. What would that Reinhard jerk think of her if she dropped dead after all that effort she had put into escaping from him?

What a freaking joke.

As the man drew closer, Felt tightened her grip around the table leg. She had been utterly exhausted only moments ago, but now the adrenaline pumped through every inch of her body. She stood facing the mysterious cloaked man, refusing to back down an inch. Only one thought now remained in her mind. Everything else had faded into insignificance.

 _Survive…!_

She saw the flash of the rapier just in time to twist her head out of the way, narrowly avoiding a direct hit to the forehead. Damn it, the man was _fast_. She didn't know how long she could keep dodging his attacks, but she had to do it.

It was the only way to stay alive.

Felt was so intent on reading the man's movements that she didn't even hear his parting words as he thrust the rapier at her tiny body.

"…Farewell, dear princess."

 **end part two of three**


End file.
